KARA WILLS

Copyright © 2009

Prologue

“Put the gun down, Joshua. Put it down…NOW!”

A series of rustles and rattles drew him from the corner of the lightless kitchen and through the dining room. The distinct click of a rifle engaging its bullet ignited a new level of fear in the already electric air. Shrieks of terror erupted from a young girl and her mother.

“Listen to me. No one wants to hurt you. If you lay the weapon down, we can all walk out of here. I swear. I will not allow my men to harm you,” the negotiator bribed. It was textbook. Too textbook.

The suspect’s sinful laugh confirmed the Shadow Hunter’s every suspicion as to how this would end.

Slipping closer to the living room, unseen, he stopped to the side of the doorway that opened to the stand-off. He released his spirit into the hot zone to assess the situation.

He spotted the family. Mother and child pressed together in a corner between a wall and the stairs with no possible escape. A small table lay on its side at the little girl’s cut and bleeding feet. Water, ruined flowers and shards of ceramic sprayed over the worn wooden floor. Joshua stood between the casually dressed officer and his family. Pure evil shrouded the man who held his terrified family hostage—Dear God. A rifle at his daughter’s head! Black serpents of hatred licked and coiled around his emotionless soul as he stood, barefoot, amongst the ceramic pieces. Very seldom did a cop catch this telltale bit of information. So, they called on the Shadow Hunter.

The negotiator stood with a Kevlar vest protecting his chest. He held no weapon, no gun. He was, however, wired as a necessary protocol so his team could hear what transpired in this dark situation. Three armed officers stood at different points outside the ramshackle cottage, guns at the ready. The Shadow Hunter’s spirit form sensed the presence of the officers, hovering beneath the windows of the room. His spirit moved to the suspect holding the rifle. The negotiator tried to coax the man to move the barrel away from his daughter’s head, away from his wife. His spirit stopped directly in front of Joshua and stared into glassy eyes. He reached deep into his soul, searching for a means to end this situation peacefully. Just as soon as he touched the man’s soul, he retracted. This one was lost, with a soul so foul and devoured in evil it left nothing worth saving. The steady hold of his rifle aimed at his daughter proved just that. Not a tremble touched his hands, not a bead of sweat laced his otherwise greasy face. His breathing remained steady and regular. Dammit. The man was calm!

He pulled his spirit back into his body.

“They’ll die before me. Nothin’ you say changes my mind. Death don’t fright’n me. Your promises are shit! They’re not worth nothin’! You hear? Nothin’!” Joshua barked. He jerked the barrel toward his wife. The poor lady cringed, shaking uncontrollably as she tucked her little girl’s head further into her chest, hiding her from the threatening weapon.

“Let your family go, Joshua. They have done nothing to deserve a death sentence,” the negotiator said

Sensing a twitch of Joshua’s index finger against the trigger, the Shadow Hunter bolted into action. With the lithe agility of a panther, he released one short sword and let it cut through a single hanging lamp in the center of the cramped room. A mass of confusion instantly ensued as a shower of sparks fell over the room, leaving darkness in its stead. He made his way quick and silent across the room, knocking the rifle from Joshua’s hand. The man had condemned himself to death and the Shadow Hunter would be the deliverer of that sentence.

The little girl’s screams echoed in his ears as he drew his dagger across Joshua’s neck with one swift motion. He tossed the gurgling man away from the family, away from the girl he knew had been sprayed with her father’s blood. With time ticking away and his escape imperative, he crouched down next to the huddled mother and child.

“You are safe now. He will not hurt you again,” he whispered.

Shocking white flashlight beams swung wildly over the room. Two beams found the dead man on the rug. One fixed on him.

“Hey!” an officer shouted.

He bolted from the room and out of the house before anyone had a chance to stop him.

 

Chapter One

An easy four hours lingered ahead until the sun would rise to announce a new day, a new assignment. He redressed in his dark clothing, adjusting the simple cloth mask that hid his face from the bridge of his nose down to beneath his chin. His muscles were relaxed, his body sated for the time being. He was human and needed release in one fashion or another. Since a normal relationship was out of the question—a yearning sought in futile soil, from a time long past—he found momentary solace in high-priced escorts. This one, a petite bleached-blond with surgical breast implants and many other alterations, had been a pleasure in every physical sense of the word.

Oh, how parting brought such sweet sorrow.

Yeah, right, he thought venomously. A bitter laugh crept from the depths of his throat as he swung his cloak around his shoulders and fastened it with a gold and ruby broach, one of the few pieces of jewelry from his beloved mother. He cherished it more than anything. That, and a gold, ruby and diamond ring that he wore around his neck. God rest her soul.

“What’s the joke?” the little primped sex toy asked, her voice sultry and sexually heated. He glanced at her naked figure sprawled over the mussed bed sheets. She chewed on her index finger before her hand slowly crept toward the lower planes of her body. “You still have another hour, and we’re just getting started.”

“Finish yourself off, by all means. I have business to attend to.” He took his leave without hesitation or regret, without any residue of sexual hunger or lingering thoughts of what had come to pass. He took the poorly lit stairwell down to the ground floor and slipped out of the hotel, undetected.

Crisp coolness laced the night. A gentle breeze rustled the changing leaves, creating a solemn symphony for listening ears. Autumn had arrived in full force. A huddle of crows pecked at a rotting animal corpse along the road, their caws summoning the rest of the flock. Other than the nocturnal wildlife and himself, the world was devoid of activity.

He walked just inside the perimeter of trees that stretched along the road as one with his surroundings. He had been taught in strict compliance with the power of his mind and the power of his senses. He could feel the disturbance in the air if something—or someone—pursued him. He could hear footsteps at a distance considered humanly impossible. He had only begun to understand the concept of mind-see, a gift of seeing another person through their own eyes. Only a handful of people in the world possessed such a gift.

He found eternal companionship in Solitude. The sensuous fingers of the curling breeze and the silent whispers of darkness in his ears were constant reminders of his damnation. This cold, ruthless, mocking reality was his daily hell. After all, he was the Shadow Hunter.

He rounded the high wall that housed his private sanctuary and entered through the wrought iron gates. He hunched his shoulders forward to brace himself against the chill of the strengthening wind hampering his ascent up the long drive. His gaze lifted to a shadow-cloaked statue far off to his left, but he never hesitated in stride until he reached the front doors.

The front door pulled open and a tall, stately man with thick salt-and-pepper hair, mussed from bed, stepped aside, allowing his entrance into the sparsely lit foyer.

“Sir, you were out late this evening,” the man murmured groggily. He wore a long robe that settled unevenly on his shoulders, striped night pants and wool-lined slippers. Strokes of red marred the right side of his face from his pillow. His eyelids hung heavily, threatening a pleasant nap while he stood.

“I apologize for disturbing your sleep, Martin. I assure you, all is well this evening.” He shrugged the heavy black cloak from his shoulders and into Martin’s receiving hands. “I best head off to bed. I need to be up by dawn. I have a very curious client I must meet with tomorrow evening and I wish to watch his routine during the day.”

“Ahh, yes. We wouldn’t want harm to come upon a good man, such as yourself,” Martin said sincerely, a deep yawn slurring the last of his sentence.

“Thank you,” he murmured. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Unfortunately, many do not perceive me the way you do, old friend.”

* * * *

Clara sprung up in bed, hair matted to her sweaty face. A lone howl from a wolf curled within the early fall breeze. Tree branches scraped the window panes, shrieking in her ears, beckoning the onset of goose bumps over her body. She climbed out of the heavily covered bed, slid into a pair of slippers and slowly began to check the desolate cabin tucked beneath the cloak of night. The microwave clock in the kitchen blazed the time in bright green numbers: 3:11. The television showed the latest development of a hostage situation and the convenient arrival of the infamous Shadow Hunter who murdered the suspect and managed to flee the scene before cops could apprehend him.

Brushing tangled strands of hair behind her ears, she slipped through each room, ensuring all the locks on the windows were in place. She drew each set of curtains closed. She had fallen asleep unintentionally, ultimately forgetting her lockdown routine.

The cabin had been built fifteen years earlier by her father. Since the untimely death of her mother five years ago, her father had lost his love for the cabin. He had offered it to Clara, and she used it as a retreat.

As of late, the need to escape brought her deep within the mountains of New York State quite often.

Now, she feared her private sanctuary, her secret hideaway, had been breached. No one knew about the cabin aside of her parents. Not even Chris or her closest friends. Clara had kept it a secret from the world. Lately, second thoughts about her upcoming wedding and Chris’s sudden change in attitude drove her to her refuge more often than not. The last thing she wanted was her fiancé following her up from New Jersey and stalking her like a jealous husband.

The breaking news about the hostage situation and the Shadow Hunter had her on edge. That’s all.

Coming to the last window, Clara peeked into the blackness. Silver eyes stared back at her, unmoving. She gasped, her heart fluttering enough to weaken her knees momentarily until she came to her senses.

“Only an animal, Clara. You’re in the boonies, remember?” she whispered to herself, breath fogging the chilled glass. Nevertheless, she ensured the windows were secured, pulled the curtains and headed back to her room. As she climbed into bed, the ring of her cell phone pierced through the silence, causing her heart to skip and her stomach to churn. She was a bundle of nerves, and for no good reason. She answered the caller before the second ring.

“Clara, where the hell are you? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all day! Your dad keeps telling me that you’re out and he hasn’t heard from you! Why haven’t you picked up your phone? Where are you? What are you doing?”

Clara cringed at Chris’s heated tone.

“I’m booked into a hotel. I thought I told you about my conference tomorrow. Why are you calling me now? It’s after three in the morning and you sound as if you haven’t slept at all,” Clara shot back. She curled beneath the security of the down comforters layered on her bed and burrowed her head into the pillows. A woman’s moan in the background drew her attention. “Who’s there with you?”

“It’s the TV. Who’d you think would be here other than you? We’re getting married in a month. I’m not about to cheat on the woman I love. Anyhow, back to the conference. I wasn’t aware of it. It’s not written on the calendar, and since no one heard from you all day, you had me worried. When are you coming home?”

“I should be back tomorrow evening sometime. I’ll call you when I’m heading home. Let me go to sleep. I have to get up early.” Clara yawned. She shut her eyes and waited for Chris’s goodnight.

“I love you, baby. Have a good day tomorrow.”

“Love you too. ‘Night.” Clara tucked the phone under the mattress so she would not be disturbed by any more check up calls.

* * * *

Chris shoved the girl off his lap and tossed his phone across the room. His vision tunneled, black around the edge, as fury swept through him. He watched the girl compose herself, her chin tilted skyward, her haphazardly dressed figure straight and proud. Chris snorted, climbing off the bed. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey from his dresser.

“You ever—ever!—pull a stunt like that again, Mag, and I’ll make sure you never open your mouth as long as you live. Got that? You know what you could’ve done if Clara thought I had another girl here? Screwed me! Royally screwed me,” He took a swig of the amber liquid before slamming the bottle back on the dresser hard enough for the mirror to quiver. He approached the bed once again, the ever-defiant Mag still sitting in the center of the disheveled sheets, her lace teddy open and her breasts pearled against the chill of his condo. She slowly spread her legs apart, taunting him with the shadowed apex of her thighs.

“I don’t see what that girl has that I don’t. Come on, let’s face it. You’re not happy with her, otherwise you wouldn’t have me here to satisfy you in ways she could only dream of,” Mag said.

Chris’s eyes narrowed. “Clara is my fiancée. She’ll be a permanent fixture in my life, whether we like it or not. You’re a whore and everyone knows it. I enjoy everything you do, but let’s face it.” Chris stepped up to the bed and combed his fingers back through Mag’s hair. He led her parted lips to his engorged staff. “You can never provide the façade I need to keep my ass out of jail and keep my business rolling. Clara is the perfect girl-next-door type. Until a time when I don’t need Clara, we deal. Now, be a good little whore and do what you do best.”

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